Chronicles of the Island
by Just I
Summary: A collection of short stories. updated, can't say much more so read and review
1. Rosie

A/N Don't own the characters, LMM does, Marta's mine and I kinda like her. I apologize if this one is a tad bit melodramatic, it just wrote itself, I'm not so sure I meant it to go that way. Oh well, think of Anne's first attempts (at least in my story the heroin doesn't lose every one of her children). I assure you more funny ones will come. Also, I'd like to apologize for the rift in the time line, I'm writing them as they come not as they happened, am now writing an Una fic.  
Rosie  
  
Faith Meredith married her boyhood sweetheart in a beautiful ceremony held at the Glenn St. Marry manse. Reverend John Meredith, father of the bride officiated, Faith's sister and sisters in law were bridesmaids. The people of the Glenn all remarked it was a miracle the wedding ever took place what with Jem being missing and presumed dead by all but his nearest and dearest. Some Glenn women did go on about Mrs. Blythe looking so cheerful and laughing, with Walter gone not two years. Others were much disturbed by the bride taking on a job as a trained nurse in Kingsport. Even though it was 1919, it was unheard of a married woman working, at least not one who didn't have to.  
  
I've never seen an ugly bride, but Faith was far more than beautiful, she was heavenly. Her golden brown hair was simply adorned by a veil that had been her mother in law's. Una, sister of the bride and maid of honor had hand sewn a masterpiece of white silk and lace. But above all she was happy and when Faith was happy her eyes glowed and her cheeks were as rosy as a red rose.  
  
As Faith slid away from her brother Jerry's arm and took her place beside Jem before her father and God, he whispered one word to her, "Rosie". The one word that said at any other time to any other person would have meant nothing at all, meant the world to Faith.  
  
As Jem lay feverish and delirious in a field hospital somewhere in Holland, the only word he uttered for days was "Rosie". Upon his arrival, he had not been not able to have been questioned due to obvious reasons. The Dutch nurse who received care of the Canadian Capitan had rummaged through the little that amounted to the suffering patient's earthly possessions in search of a clue to whom this Rosie was. Understandably, not much was left of his belongings after many years of war, months of imprisonment and than an escape. Marta, the Dutch nurse went through the meager personal items found in the young soldier's pocket, many times in her investigation. Marta was a great romantic with a wild imagination; she just knew that Rosie was a very special person.  
  
In Capitan Blythe's pocket was a faded tattered newspaper clipping with an advertisement for a house in South London, the other side had a war poem, the poet's name was torn off for it had suffered incredibly. Marta, hoped he had kept the clipping for the poem rather than the house advertisement (though that would have been the more practical choice), it was such a beautiful poem. Brittle and faded rose petals were there too, obviously alluding to the elusive Rosie. A letter and an envelope were found, the letter was from the father, it was signed "Dad". The mystery and perhaps a clue to the puzzle lay within the envelope. Although the letter from the father described events and scenes from America (the philistine, like many Europeans, she could not distinguish between Canada and the United States), the envelope it was in was postmarked with a British seal. Much damage was done to the letter and envelope, most of the letter was illegible, and the name and address were but a faded blue marking.  
  
It took Marta only a few hours to decide she must do something for the poor patient. "If he does have a friend in England, he or she must be summand" She told herself. Secretly, she hoped the friend was a she answering to the name of Rosie. Without a name or address, she sent a letter to the military post office that had been postmarked. In the letter she explained the whole situation, as she knew it, including the few clues she had and the name of the poor soldier.  
  
Many miles away in a small town on the western coast of Britain was Faith Meredith, a young VAD, working at a local military medical facility. Faith, trying to avoid thought and above all sleepless nights, was working herself to exhaustion. Faith knew with all her being that Jem was alive and would return home. For Faith there just was no other option. What kept Faith up at nights was the thought that Jem was wounded or had fallen ill. Faith had been caring for wounded and ill soldiers since she had arrived in England. The pain and suffering was beyond anything she could have ever imagined in her worst nightmares. What tormented Faith above all the other horrors of the carnage of war was the aging. She had seen patients coming in that looked older than her father; looking at their files she would see they were as young as she or even younger.  
  
She was not able to write to her friends and family back home as often as she would have wished. Writing meant thinking and when she thought she saw Jem as one of the ancient ghost of boys suffering far beyond their physical wounds and ailments. She had to write though, in order to receive letters from home, those letters full of love hope and encouragement, were what kept her sane.  
  
Faith had taken a batch of a dozen or so letters to all her nearest and dearest in Canada to the post office. It was a military post office with many convalescing soldiers coming in to post letters to their loved ones. The ques were awfully long. Faith amused herself by reading the postings put up by the postal staff. Among notices about changing postage stamp rates and censorship warnings was a letter written by a Dutch nurse.  
  
What caught Faith's eye was the poem, how nice for Walter to be honored and loved by a stranger. Reading further she caught the name Captain James Mathew Blythe. Her first reaction was to think how peculiar a coincidence, Walter's poem saved by a soldier with Jem's name. This James Mathew Blythe was calling for a girl named Rosie. How uncanny, Jem would insist on calling her Rosie when they were in private ever since he had been told the story of her Uncle Norman Douglas. Jem had always said that he loved her always but he seemed to love her even more when her cheeks were flaming red (they always did flame red after he would say such things).  
  
It struck her in one moment, the full force of it had hit her with such might she had to sit down, on the floor in the crowded post office holding a dozen letters. She was Rosie, Jem was Capitan James Mathew Blythe and she had to get to Holland as soon as possible.  
  
Faith arrived in the Dutch military hospital early the next morning. No mortal effort could have brought her there that fast in wartime, but a higher force than mortal strength powered Faith. Marta was dully called for and brought a very flushed Faith to the bedside of the man she loved. "Rosie", he said and looked in her eyes, "I'm not leaving you again". That was the first coherent sentence he had uttered since his admittance. Later that day a cable was sent to Ingleside.  
  
Many things were said and dreamt and imagined beside that bed for many weeks to come. Plans were made and remade again and again. Faith, who feared so her young Jem would look old and ghostlike, could not see any symptoms of age in him. She didn't notice any gray strands in the once ruddy hair, or a knowing look in the once young and merry eyes. Perhaps this was so because Faith herself was no longer a girl, she too had suffered the horrors of war.  
  
Standing at the alter the only thing Jem could say to the one woman who meant the world to him was Rosie. Faith knew that Rosie meant, the universe, undying love, will power and above all Rosie meant Faith. 


	2. Jack's Problem

A/n I disclaim any ownership to any of LMM's characters. All characters you don't recognize were inspired by the great LMM. I apologize if it may be difficult to read, but I couldn't write any other way. By the way it's Just me. Could you believe, they already have a Just ME? So I had to change my name.  
  
One summer day Mrs. Anne Blythe received a letter from her grandson young Jack Blythe. Young Jack was very precocious for a seven-year-old boy, but alas, his grammar and spelling were lacking somewhat. Anne was happy she was quite a few miles away from her beloved Jack, for she made it a rule never to laugh at children to their face.  
  
Dear Grandmother Blythe,  
  
Its been ages since you and Grandfather came to see us at green gables. Wont you please come see us soon. Father sed I should right you this letter because he didn't have the answer to my problem. The problem is ever so important, I cant sleep at nite and think about it all the time. It all started last wensday I was with Keith Wright and we were playing solders and hiding in a bush cuse the huns were coming looking for us. We heard miss josie pie and mrs Amasa Andrews talking. And they were talking about my mum. Why were they talking about my mum I thought and I didn't know. They said mrs dokter Blythe must of lost her mind giving her young uns a rooster as a pet who ever herd of such a thing. Mabe they didn't but I did, I was going to tell them that mum had a pet rooster when she was little and she loved him just like we love are little gorge. But what reely was important was they sed mum lost her mind. Keith and I thought a mind must be a very important thing and we should go look fir it so we can give it bak to mum. But it must be a surprise mum musnt find out we know that she lost her mind.  
  
Me and Keith thought we should go look were she lost it. They said she lost it when she gave us the rooster. She gave us gorge in the yard. so we went to the yard and looked all over it. Now, me and keith never sow a mind before so we don't know what it looks like but keith said we would probobly notice it if it was there. Keith is awfully clever. We looked and looked and looked but we couldnt find anything that didn't belong in a yard. The only thing we found was a old shoe we didn't think that was a mind. Do you remember a old shoe in the yard, of corse it wasn't old when you lived in green gables.  
  
Next I thought we should go to the school house. I once heard someone say that school forms a young persens mind. We don't reely know what form is but, we decided it is a good place to look for a mind. So we went to the school, the teacher was out. Oh grandmother, you would like are teacher she is so pretty and good and nice and she dosnt laff at kids. But Billi Mcgillis was there. Billi is the person that cleans the school. The bord decided that avonlea school needs a cleaner. Is was ever such a big fight, did you know that grown ups fight only they don't call it that. Father sed that grown ups don't fight they discuss. When im grown up will I also discuss?  
  
I asked billi if he knew were a mind might be. I don't think Billi is very bright or very wel mannerd. He didn't seem to understand us and just steard at us. Mum always ses it aint manners to stear at people. Now I know why. its not very nice when people stear at you, you feel kindaf funny inside. We said we was looking for a mind that mihte have been lost last week. Billi jus steard at us so we left. Keith figgerd that if mums mind was there Billi would know even if he was a bit thick. Did I tell you how clever Keith is. am I gonna be clever like keith when im almost eight? I hope so  
  
We decided we might not find mums owne mind, but mabe she could get a new mind. We thought we should go to the store and by one. It mihte be awfully expensive but we wanted to know forshir. So we went to Mr Williams store mum never goese ther so we went there so mum wouldn't see us. I went in alone keith watched owtside if someone comes that we know that will tell mum and it wont be a suprise. Do you have minds I said to mr. wiliams. Mr wiliams isn't very manners either. He also steard at me. A mind, mothers lost hers and I want to by her a new one. Do you know what he did. He laffed and laffed and laffed.and then he cried and cried and laffed and laffed and he was so red I thougt he would pop like a balloon. But he didn't.  
  
I knew he wouldn't give me a mind so I figgerd I better ask father. Father alwes knows how to help my problems.  
  
Keith had to go home to orcherd slope were you reely friends with mrs Wright when you were little? Was she fat then to? She is awfully funny and kind but she is fat. Keith is afraid he will be fat when he is old will he? I want to be just like you when I am old.  
  
I told father all the story how we heard the ladys talk and went to look for mums mind. And do you know. Father didn't stear at me or laff. Why do grown ups alwes laff at kids? When I, a grown up I wont laff at kids. I will be like my grown ups they never laff at me.  
  
Father sed I should rite you the letter and ask you were to look for mums mind. He sed you alwes knew how to help him with his problems wen he was a boy. I also want to know if you know were mothers rooster is she wodnt tel me were I could find it. Does it live with Grandfather And Grandmother Meredith and Aunt Una?  
  
Please rite fast.  
  
I love you ever so much  
  
Your grandson John Meredith Blythe  
  
Anne did answer this letter, but unfortunately, seven-year-old Jack Blythe didn't keep as orderly a filing system as his grandmother. A copy of that letter full of loving and reassuring words explaining the metaphysical in words a young child could understand was forever lost. 


	3. Aunt Una Keeps the Faith

A/n The only characters I own here are Annabelle and CeCe the rest are LMM's or who ever has the right's to her books now. Sorry if the story disappoints some of you, this is where my imagination takes me. Thank you for reviewing my story, I want more though, so just review (I can handle criticism, so bring it on, as long as you "Damn with some praise").  
  
Fifteen-year-old cousins CeCe Blythe and Annabelle Meredith were invited to spend a fortnight with their Glenn St. Marry relations. They were to divide their time between Ingleside and the manse. The first week spent in Ingleside was spent giggling and chattering as only two young girls of fifteen can. These two rather silly romantic girls had very much to discuss, much more than any other fifteen-year-old years before. They could not believe their mothers had never been to a film at their age or listened to a radio serial. What could fifteen year old girls possibly have done ages and ages ago when their respective mothers were of that age?  
  
The girls' grandmother Blythe would amuse them with tails of her own childhood larks. Grandmother Blythe's stories were always very entertaining she was such a good storyteller even though story telling was for babies. Late at night they would discuss the stories, those times did sound like fun, but what odd forms of amusement were story writing clubs and acting out poetry. The cousins enjoyed thriling romantic serials on the radio and heroic epics on the silver screen of the cinema. CeCe was a great Errol Flyne admirer while Annabelle quite fancied Clark Gabel. Life was just not worth living without seeing one of them in a film at least once a week.  
  
By the time the Ingleside was over and they had relocated to the manse they had not much more to say to each other about film and radio stars, they began discussing romance a bit closer to home (though not necessarily less fanciful).Annabell and CeCe were siting at the kitchen table polishing the silver. Annabelle had her eyes set on Alec King, he was a senior at Carlisle High School and very good looking ("not at all like his father with his rather ugly looking mouth", said she, unaware of any indelicacy on her part). "Oh I only wish he would go join up and ask me to write to him. I would just die if he asked another girl to write to him when he joins up. It would be so perfectly dreamy to write to a young man over seas fighting for King and country. Oh, Aunt Rilla and Uncle Ken were ever so romantic falling in love only to be separated by war. I wish I could have a Romance like that too." Confided Annabelle. "If only Keith Wright would notice me" said CeCe. "I just know he only sees me as Jack's little sister and now that Jack went in, he doesn't see me at all. Not once has he been by Green Gables in the past two months. I think it very selfish of him, I'd almost stop loving him as I do, but there is not another boy worth having in Avonlea. All the other boys are so dull and they treat any girl around as if she were a china doll. "  
  
"If he won't have you would you go with another boy?" asked Annabelle. "Oh no, never not another boy." A thought came to CeCe as she answering "But if I were really old, say twenty three and not married yet I would, I don't want to stay an old maid you know." "It would be awful to be an old maid" agreed Annabelle " I can't imagine any thing worse than being an old maid." "It's as if you're walking around with a sign saying 'I'm not good enough for anyone to love me'. "Added her cousin. Just then, they heard a glass drop and shatter, turning around toward the noise they saw Aunt Una leave the room.  
  
At that second there were not to more remorseful girls in the Prince Edward Island, Nay in the whole of Canada. CeCe and Annabelle were admittedly silly girls, as fifteen-year-old girls are, but they were good and decent. Had they realized that their Aunt Una had slipped into the kitchen to get a glass of water, they would have been more cautious. In fact if they had remembered their Aunt Una was an old maid they wouldn't have anything at all. Aunt Una was so un-oldmaidish, they simply never thought of her as one.  
  
Silent the girls sat, not knowing what to say, for there was nothing they could say to redeem themselves. It was one of those moments that you just know you will never be happy again. How awful it must be for Aunt Una. When the girls had finished their chore for the day the silver gleamed like it never did before.  
  
Una Meredith was sitting in her beautiful room in the manse, tears had filled her eyes, they refused to stop coming even though her heart had told her eyes to stop crying. Una wasn't crying for herself, she never did she was crying for what could have been and wasn't. She was crying for all those who never knew love and for all those who did but lost it. Una stayed in her room all day and all night crying till she could dry no more.  
  
Down came and went, the sun was sole ruler of the sky and all that was dark and bleak was bright and cheerful again. Una knew what she must do, let her nieces share her secret, a secret only one other person alive knew. Une picked up the 'phone and asked Anne Blyhte for permission to divulge their secret to others. Time, circumstance and their shared secret had brought Anne and Una close together. Anne had given her permission, knowing the time had come.  
  
That evening Una told the girls she wanted to show them something. To the girls astonishment their Aunt was as cheerful as she always was. Not a trace of yesterday's sorrow was noticeable. Annabelle, CeCe I'd like you girls to join me in my room I have something to show you.  
  
The girls could not utter an apology and it seamed as though one was not demanded. They dutifully followed their aunt into her room. Aunt Una picked up a small chest that sat on her bedside table. The chest was a magnificent Olive wood one adorned with intricate carvings and a gift from a cousin who traveled to the Holy Land years ago. "I want you to have a look in the chest". Aunt Una sat down on a chair and left the bed to her two young nieces. Annabelle felt it was sacrilegious to open the chest so she past it on to CeCe. CeCe to felt a bit uneasy delving into Aunt Una's secrets, but her curiosity prevailed. "Besides, Aunt Una said we should open it she wants us to share her secrets." CeCe opened the chest carefully but eagerly. "Why, it's full of letters" exclaimed CeCe. "Love letters, oh I'm sure they're Love Letters." cried her cousin. Una was quiet. "Aunt Una, who sent you Love Letters and so many of them, there must be hundreds?" asked Annabelle. 'A hundred and forty one' thought Una but said nothing.  
  
"Do you really want us to read them?" asked CeCe. 'No' thought Una "yes", she said. Reading the letters the girls saw they were not for Aunt Una but from Aunt Una, but that was not what made the girls shout out in a most unladylike fashion. "They're to Uncle Walter!" All Una could give by way of response was a small smile. "They're lovely, Aunt Una," said Annabelle. "But Aunt Una, they were never sent, were they?" asked CeCe. "No, they weren't" answered Aunt Una, not these."  
  
"So Uncle Walter never knew you loved him?" asked Annabelle. "But he did, I finally had the courage to send him one shortly before he was killed." Answered Aunt Una. "You see girls, I loved your Uncle Walter for years, secretly, and I could tell no one. If it were up to me I would have shouted it off the rooftops, even though you know how much I hate to shout. But Walter was in love with your Aunt Faith, tragically, as you know. Even then your uncle Jem and Aunt Faith were in love, yes even when they were your age. Uncle Walter was a poet, Maybe that's why fell in love with a girl he could never have. But I kept hoping he might stop loving her and he didn't. Just before he left to war we had gotten very close; I felt perhaps he could grow to love me. I spent my days wishing he would give me a hint.  
  
The day he left for war I thought I had my hint but I wasn't sure. He came for a last chat before he left and we walked to Rainbow Valley. We talked some, but most of the time we were silent. We had come to a point we no longer needed many words. We walked close to each other but not touching. As we parted he said "I look forward to your letters" and he smiled a smile that I thought was my hint. But then he added "It is must be lovely to get letters from friends so far away. I will your letters and think of the Island and my family and friends." Friends he said, I wanted so much more than friends. So I never sent my letters even though I kept writing them. The last letter was sent, I had a strong feeling I just had to send it and see if e loved me."  
  
"Did he read the letter? Did he answer you? Did he say he loved you to, it is so Romantic Aunt Una, I can't bear it." Asked Annabelle. "I believe he did read the letter, but I'll never know fur sure, but he did love me. Not so long afterwards, Walter died in battle" Was her Aunt's reply. "So how do you know he loved you?" Asked CeCe. "This is how I know" said Aunt Una taking an old battered yellow letter from beneath all the unsent ones. "Your Uncle Walter sent this letter the night before he died, it arrived after we had been mourning him." CeCe scanned the letter "It's addressed to Aunt Rilla" she said. "Read on" Una urged her impatient niece.  
  
"So you've been keeping the faith?" asked Annabelle. "Yes" said Una. CeCe was uncharacteristically silent. After a few minutes of reflection she said, "Your not an old maid Aunt Una. And if I love a man half as much as you do (you still do don't you?) and then lose him I will be thankful. Now I think I can truly understand the old proverb "Better to have loved and lost than to not have lived at all."  
  
The girls had left Una's room learning a valuable lesson. Una sat on her bed reading Walter's letter, she knew the girls couldn't really understand her love and hope with all her might that they never would. 


	4. Ghosts and Memories

A/N don't anyone. All characters belong to LMM. Not much plot here, just keeping you up to date on the Blythe's and giving you a bit of Anne and Gill, tons of emotions, take out your tissues. Thanks for your reviews, and yes Jack is Faith and Jem's son. CeCe is also theirs Annabelle is Jerry and Nan's. I'm working in a Di romance, and one featuring a whole group of children. Expect familiar faces... that's all I can tell you.  
  
Ingleside had become deserted, only Anne, Gilbert and Susan reaming in what was once a house that knew no rest or quiet. Anne was proud of her children as any mother would be but there were times late at night when Gilbert was off at on a call she felt lonely, worse than that she felt sorry for herself. "My children have all left me, it gets so lonely here sometimes, it hurts." she confided to Gilbert late at night. "Anne Girl", Gilbert said, his arm around Anne. " I wish I could make the wish I made years ago in Kingsport come true. Do you remember, to make sure nothing bad happened to you? I don't regret a minute with you, but I wish." and he said no more. "Nor do I Gil, nor do I." Said Anne holding his hand tightly, "if only we could have all the happy moments without." Anne to could say no more. A long moment of silence past, silence can relay so much more than words. " They're not children any more, you can't have them back they've grown". Said Gilbert finally, and then remembering those who would never grow a tear slipped from his eye. "You have to let them go. They'll come back."  
  
Jem was married, living with Faith in Kingsport, they did try to visit as often as they could, but it medical school and a full time career in nursing, didn't leave much time for visiting. Walter, Walter is dead, Anne had to repeat it herself every day, refusing to believe it. A small part of her never did believe he was gone forever, not a day went by without her waiting to hear he was coming home, only to remember he never would. Nan Was a bride, married to Jerry Meredith but a week ago. The house seemed so empty after the hustle and bustle of the wedding. Nan was such a cheerful, beautiful bride, now realizing the dreams she had weaved in the years she was apart from Jerry. Nan would be a great housewife, for that was what she wanted to be, a good wife to Jerry. Anne had no doubt that Nan would succeed in this one ambition of hers.  
  
Di was another story; she has surprised them all by announcing she was moving to Toronto to take on a career as magazine publisher. Anne and Gilbert were proud of their daughter's ambition, but would have been happier if she could be ambitious closer to home. What with Shirley at Redmond and Rilla off to be married they were looking forward to having Di with them for a while. Though they would be thrilled if she found herself a nice young man and settled down. Shirley was back at Redmond studying Aeronautics, the first year Aeronautics was ever taught at Redmond. Not many people were sure exactly what it was Shirley was studying, but they all wished him well. He seemed to be happy, though he rarely smiled. Baby Rilla, was a baby no longer, Rilla was to be Anne's second bride. Rilla had gone off to Toronto to buy a trousseau fit for a Ford bride. Anne was glad her two brides were to live near her. Nan, in a small house in Glenn St. Mary, where Jerry was to teach and Rilla was to live in the House 'o Dreams. Anne could not hide her delight, for she always hoped one of her children would return to that house that Gilbert and she had spent those magical first days of marriage. She wished the, all the joy and happiness she knew there without any hint of sorrow and pain.  
  
"I do believe my babies are still in this house, laying in their beds waiting to fall asleep. Jem is thinking of the sea, he wants to be a sailor when he grows up, remember Gill." Anne said, her gray eyes misty and voice far away. "Who ever thought he would actually cross the ocean," was Gilbert's reply. "Walter is in his bed dreaming of beautiful things, nymphs, rainbows and fairies, he hasn't heard of The Piper yet." Anne still had her faraway look, Gilbert was sobbing, only with Anne could he cry in the open, she never judged. "Nan and Di are in their room Nan imagining she is a faraway princess and Di planning their escapades in Rainbow Valley. I just know Susan came in to look at Shirley sleeping and make sure he's tucked in, she never trusts me to take care of him. Little Shirley is sound a sleep dreaming of sunshine. Rilla quite is laying quite beautifully in her bed without a care in the world." Gilbert gave Anne a good cuddle, not saying a word; still tears were streaming from his eyes. "Joyce isn't here, I haven't forgotten my little Joyce, My first baby. She's in the House o' Dreams, she's not alone she's surrounded by all the joy and laughter that ever was there all the love and hope that was ever dreamt there." "And soon our Rilla will join little Joyce at your House o' Dreams." Said Gilbert after a while, stroking Anne's once red locks. 


	5. How Alexander Craig Became King

A/N Sorry it took so long to write, Felicity is not such an easy character, thanks for the reviews, I have a good idea I'm developing for Jack and Keith so wait for that. Please excuse my grammar (I'm Israeli what do you expect?). Guffa I tried to respond to your review on my other story-for some reason it wasn't posted with the rest of my story-honestly I'll never figure comports out. Well anyway I'll try to post it again. I know this is long, please be patient. Please Read and review.  
  
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Carlisle was a small village in Prince Edward Island Canada. Like small villages around the world, it too had a village fool, a village gossip (it actually had quite a few of those) and a village belle. Felicity King was the beauty of Carlisle, renowned throughout the Island. At eighteen, she was in her prime. Six months earlier she had lost her younger sister to consumption. The poor girl was never really well and was not expected to live as long as she did. Losing her sister Cecily, had made felicity even more beautiful. A little bit of sorrow always makes people look pensive, adding a perception of depth, not always truly there.  
  
Felicity had other good traits to her credit besides her God given looks. She was a natural born housekeeper and was very continuos of good manners. Above all that, the King family had a long history on the Island and a prosperous farm, rightfully so, they held their heads high. As very well imagined, she was considered 'a great catch' (one may think such a consideration a bit crude). Felicity was very much aware of her status among Island young men (and their mothers). Humility never was one of her virtues. Many young men paid their attentions to her, she had a companion for every night of the week if so she wished. Felicity King defied the common assumption she would be married by her nineteenth birthday. Indeed, her twentieth birthday came and went and she was still Felicity King of Carlisle, still the village belle.  
  
Many theories explained this phenomenon, some said she was too arrogant, no one was enough for a Carlisle King. Others said she had not yet recovered from her sister Cecily's death. Another theory was that she was cold hearted and never intends to marry, she wishes to be an old maid her whole life and have the run of the King house. An opposing theory claimed she was secretly in love with a man who never asked her, admittedly, not many held this opinion. Truth be told, it was probably a combination of all the above reasons and more.  
  
The Great War broke out as Felicity began her twenty first year on this earth. One by one Carlisle had become empty of young men. One of the first Carlisle young men to join the ranks was Dan King Felicity's brother. Dan King clearly was formed from another mold than his sister, no two siblings could be more different. As beautiful as Felicity was Dan was not much to look at putting it politely, his crowning feature being his rather long mouth. While Felicity was the picture of decorum and self-control, Dan did as he pleased without worrying too much what others thought or said. Dan was adventurous on the verge of reckless at times Felicity, on the other hand, was the essence of self-reserve and caution. As many siblings world wide Felicity and Dan tended to goad and tease each other senselessly. While Cecily was alive she was a peacemaker and during the many years of her illness she remained a reason for them to be civil to one another.  
  
Brother and sister had grown apart in the years following Cecily's death. Felicity did not realize how much she actually did love her brother until he was gone. Dan was deep in the trenches before Felicity came to a realization she might lose the last sibling she had. Felicity was not a distinguished writer, nor was Dan, but they did correspond semi regularly during the war years. Felicity turned all her mothering instincts to worrying over her brother. Many a young Island man had asked Felicity to write to them as they left for war, she invariably answered, "there is only one soldier I write to, my brother."  
  
As 1914 turned to 1915 and 1915 faded into 1916, Carlisle as the Island and the whole of Canada was empty of young men. The King farm that had once been a gathering for young people was empty. Felicity who once reigned as queen of Carlisle's young men had become queen of the young women. Felicity King had a mother's soul, even as a child. Now she had an outlet for her God given talents. Felicity had organized a Red Cross sowing circle that drew young and old women into the war effort. A bake sale was organized with the proceeds to benefit war orphans and widows. The one bake sale was a success and was followed by monthly such sales. Felicity threw herself into the good work, she was at her element but somewhere inside she felt a nagging emptiness.  
  
There was one gentleman who called regularly at the King farm, a divinity student by the name of Peter Craig. Peter Craig had come a long way from being Uncle Robert and Aunt Olivia King's hired boy who laughed out loud his first time going to church. He had not even known if he were Presbyterian or Methodist. This heathen of a boy devoid of manners or a proper upbringing had another vital fault. Peter Craig's father had been a godless man and to make matters worse he ran off leaving Peter and his mother all alone and penniless, his mother was forced to take in washing and send her son to work in order to keep food on the table. The shame of those years had subsided, Peter had become a god fearing Presbyterian, he had learned manners from his friends and Aunt Olivia. Peter's father had returned and much to Carlisle people's he was a reformed man. Peter had eradicated the stain of his upbringing and early years by taking up his calling as a man of God. Carlisle had forgiven Peter but Felicity could not.  
  
Felicity would admit to herself that having Peter around filled some of the void in her soul, she would not admit anything more. Peter, was in love with Felicity, as was evident to all who saw him around her. Felicity herself was very well aware of that fact, his three failed proposals gave her some clue. Felicity did not believe in a love that was so overpowering that would cause someone to lose control. To Felicity Peter had made a fool of himself, she would never stoop to that level. Peter must know they had no future together, he was a Craig she was a King no more need be said.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
In spring of 1916, the Great War had been raging through Europe for two and a half years. Peter Craig had graduated from divinity school and was now a full-fledged Presbyterian minister. Peter had come to see Felicity the day of his graduation. Felicity was very proud of his achievement, "fancy Aunt Olivia and Uncle Robert's handyman becoming a minister. Who would have thought? Why it makes him almost respectable." Felicity said to herself. Deep inside her soul, in a place that did not speak, it did not think or have contact with Felicity's mind her heart felt something else. Felicity was only remotely aware of an over powering emotion, she could not define when she opened the door to him. Felicity's heart made a summersault while her mind thought "I hope he won't make another foolish proposal this time, being a minister doesn't mean he's not a Craig anymore. He must think that now he's a minister I'll change my mind."  
  
Peter Craig had not come to propose to Felicity, he had been burned three times too many. He had come to tell her he was going to war, he had enlisted earlier that day and would be leaving for basic training in the morning.  
  
When the Pied Piper came to Hamlin he bewitched the town's children to follow him into a cave in a mountain, the entrance had closed on them and they were never seen again. Not all Hamlin's children had been able to keep up with the Piper, one child was lame and was not able to follow the others into the cave. This child was saved, but forever he must have dwelled on all he had missed. Peter had watched all his boyhood playmates as they went to war, his neighbors and relations too. By 1916 not many able bodied young men were left on the Island. Peter had no strong desire to go to war but he felt it was just something he had to do. Every one else had gone and so must he. The Piper had not called Peter, his followers had.  
  
"Peter, what a surprise." Said Felicity as she opened the door to him. "Please come in. Congratulations, I can't believe you are really a minister. Do you have a parish in mind yet?" Felicity may have been leading him along a certain path.  
  
"I'm not taking on a parish, well at least not right now." Was Peter's reply.  
  
Peter's answer took Felicity by surprise. "So what are you going to do? Why have you spent all those years at divinity school if you weren't going to become a minister?"  
  
"Felicity, I've enlisted. I came to tell you I'm leaving for basic training in the morning, then I will join the Canadian boys fighting in Europe."  
  
If Peter had come to tell her he had decided to run off and join the circus she would not have been more surprised. For some reason, she had come to believe Peter would always be around. Felicity could not fathom Carlisle without Peter.  
  
"I've come to say good bye, Felicity. And I'd like to ask you something." Peter was very solemn, he seemed to Felicity the perfect specimen of ministerhood.  
  
Felicity's heart did something she never imagined it could do, it jumped up into her throat and then completely stopped beating. Her heart had regained it's rhythm in time for her to feel ashamed of it's behavior. She had control over her mind but not always over her heart. Every iota of her being was screaming "YES" and this was before she had heard the question.  
  
Perhaps if Peter could see the battles Felicity was fighting, he would have asked another question, but Felicity was not one to wear her heart on her sleeve  
  
"May I write to you?" He asked.  
  
Felicity did not feel a thing and quickly answered, "You know you couldn't, Peter. Really, you shouldn't have asked. Don't you know the only soldier I write to is Dan? I'm sorry, it would be almost as if we had an understanding. Which of course you know would be quite impossible."  
  
Peter did know it was quite impossible. "Yes, you've made that quite clear. Good Bye, I guess," he said, the latter with a degree of hesitance. He was reluctant to leave but he could not find a reason to stay.  
  
"Do you have to leave so soon?" asked Felicity. She was searching for something, but couldn't find it.  
  
"I'm afraid I have no choice." If he were a better orator one would have been able to discern the double meaning in his words. Perhaps if Felicity had a gift of perception she'd understand it anyway.  
  
Peter turned around and started walking away from the King Farm. At that moment Felicity did something that was completely out of character for her. She never did regret her one slip where she let her heart have the upper hand, though she had been ashamed at times.  
  
Felicity ran after Peter Craig as she had never run as a young girl. She caught up to him gave him a large hug and kissed his cheek. "Take care of yourself, I can't lose you." Then she was gone as fast as she came.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * Sara Ray was a girlhood friend of Felicity King, alas, she was not blessed with, beauty, charm wit or grace. She was a poor soul who shared fond memories of an innocent childhood long gone by.  
  
Sara Ray had come over to Felicity King's house so they could discuss the preparations for the big bake sale the next week in honor of war widows and orphans.  
  
"The last of our gang has gone off to war." Said Sara Ray, she had a tendency towards melodrama. "Peter came over yesterday evening and we spent HOURS talking about our childhood exploits. It seems as if it were only yesterday Peter was so ill we thought he would die. I guess God saved him then, knowing he was doomed to die in the fields of war." Sara Ray proceeded to cry into her practical white linen handkerchief. "I have SUCH a bad feeling about Peter I just know something bad will happen to him."  
  
Felicity was used to Sara Ray going into hysterics for no solid reason at all. Today she felt as though she was on the brink of tears. But she did not cry, not then. Felicity King does not cry in the open for anyone to see her, even at the death of her sister she had mourned alone in her now solitary room.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
January of 1917 found Felicity King as beautiful as ever but lonely. Even she would admit to herself that she was lonely. Most of her girlhood friends were either married or engaged to a young man overseas, or the luckier ones to a man who did not go over seas for various reasons. The girls who were neither all seemed to have a sweetheart in arms. Felicity had found it increasingly difficult around these girls, soldiering and lovemaking was all they would talk about. Felicity was interested in neither, or so she said to her self.  
  
That January Mrs. Janet and Miss Felicity King were hosting the Red Cross sowing circle at their house. The young women were at the height of their chattering and Felicity had never felt lonelier in her life. Felicity happened to catch a few words from the story Sara Ray was telling her. ".Peter claims the French winter is not nearly as cold as the Canadian winter." Was Peter writing to Sara Ray? Felicity had to know, without divulging any of her private affairs (or lack their of) with Peter Craig.  
  
"Oh he writes of the WEATHER to you," she said condescendingly "he never mentions the WEATHER in his letters to ME." Felicity was not a liar, he indeed had written NOTHING in his letters to her, certainly he had not mentioned a word about the weather.  
  
"I'm sure he has more IMPORTANT things to say to you." Was Sara Ray's sly reply.  
  
Felicity blushed till the roots of her beautiful hair, even blushing she was a beauty. If only Sara Ray knew the truth. Felicity had not received one letter from Peter since the day he left her doorstep the previous spring. Felicity could not understand her own disappointment, she explicitly had asked him not to write and he didn't. Still she would wait patiently for the mail everyday and was disappointed when inevitably there was no letter from Peter.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
In March Felicity went into Carlisle's new General Store run by Rudy McLoud. "You must be v'ry proud, Felicity. I hear the news jus' like inny one else on the Island. Don't be coy with ol' Rudy. Take what ever you want free of charge, it ain't every day someone like you buys here " Rudy said. Felicity had not the most remote idea what Rudy McLoud was on about. She tried to deny the gesture but could not stand up to Rudy McLoud.  
  
On the way home she was sure Mrs. Ezekiel Andrews and Mrs. Jonah Burns had stopped their lively gossip as she happened upon them on the street. Mrs. Jonah Burns nudged Mrs. Ezekiel Andrews who finally said, "Felicity I'm sure you're very proud. We always knew he had it in him." The ladies continued with their walk. Felicity could not for the life of her imagine what people were on about.  
  
That evening she received a card inviting her to a reception honoring the Heroes of the British Empire held by Mrs. Agatha Grant a minor Island celebrity, known for her parties Island wide. An invitation to her receptions was a most coveted honor by Island young folk. Felicity was beside herself with the distinguished honor, but she still could not fathom due to what or whom it was bestowed upon her.  
  
Latter that evening Sara Ray came over to have a chat with the heroin by proxy. Even to Sara Ray her lifelong friend she could not admit she had no idea of the reason she seemed to have been held in such high regard by an increasing amount of people. Even her own mother had given her a second helping of pie for dessert and had insisted on clearing up herself with no help from Felicity. When left to their selves Sara Ray said, "I always knew Peter was the one who would do something really great. Everyone thought it would be the Story Girl or even Bev but I always knew it would be Peter. To think you are practically engaged to a hero. How lucky for you, the closest I ever got to an engagement was when I was fifteen and Joey Randel said he'd even settle for me if Bertha May wouldn't have him. But she did, so will never know what would have happened."  
  
"I'm not engaged to Peter Craig." Felicity exclaimed at what seemed to her as a preposterous accusation.  
  
"Of course you're not," said Sara Ray. "You wouldn't go around letting every one in on your secrets, not you."  
  
"But I'm not" Protested Felicity.  
  
"I know, I won't tell anyone, even though every one thinks they know. Now that Peter is a war hero you'll be celebrities, living like royalty. You probably won't have time for simple folk like me." Sara Ray began to cry yet again into her practical boring handkerchief.  
  
"Sara Ray heaven knows you'll always make sure I'll have time for you." Felicity answered. For some reason this made Sara Ray calm down.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Alone in her room that night Felicity tried to piece together the day's events. She knew peter must have committed some act of extreme bravery in order to receive the reaction he had from the Islanders. In fact a few years would pass before Felicity would get a full picture of things.  
  
She surmised some from the front page of the Charlottetown paper that arrived in Carlisle the next day. LOCAL BOY SAVES ENTIRE PLATOON the article went on to explain how Lance Corporal Peter Craig of Carlisle had saved his entire platoon after landing in an ambush by German soldiers. The Germans identified the platoon and opened fire on it, Lance Corporal Peter Craig was several times he had not lost his cool but began shouting in German: "Don't shoot we are friends". It never was clear if he had realized that he'd been shouting in German. Peter had studied German the previous year had started dreaming in German. The Germans thought they had mistakenly opened fire on a friendly platoon so they quickly vacated the area to prevent an eventual court martial.  
  
Felicity stayed awake all night, the first time in her whole life. For some reason all of Carlisle and as it seemed most of the Island considered her all but engaged to Peter Craig. Not one nasty word was said to her, not even a condescending glance or a murmur of disapproval. Further more, it seemed to every one she met as the most natural evolution of their childhood relationship. Apparently no one else thought a Craig was not good enough for a King. Even Felicity herself had stopped thinking that, her only worry was that she, Felicity King an uneducated country girl was not good enough for Peter Craig a War Hero.  
  
Felicity cried that night, not the hysterical sobs Sara Ray was known to shed, but the tears of a women in love with a man in danger, and worse-a man who no longer loved her.  
  
Had she not acted against her nature and given into impulse hugging and kissing Peter before he'd left (albeit on the cheek). If that did not say she loved him and wanted nothing more than to be Mrs. Peter Craig nothing could. (Apparently it did not occur to Felicity that refusing the man three times might have given the wrong message). Peter had not written her and she missed him so much. The newspaper said he'd been injured, Felicity was sick with worry. What if he was maimed and she would not be able to marry him once he cam back to her.  
  
Felicity sat and wrote a letter to Peter, in it she wove all the youthful, lovely hopes and dreams that young lovers hope and dream. She ended the letter with the wish that she might some day soon become a young mister's wife and live on Prince Edward Island or any other place Peter Craig would go. Felicity was not a writer (unlike a first cousin of hers) but even this letter was beautiful for it was full of love.  
  
Many, miles away, oceans apart in fact, Peter Craig sat in a military hospital in France writing a very similar letter as the one Felicity had written to him. Coming very close to death, yet another time in his life had brought Peter to a recognition that he must try again. Running out to him must have been a sign. How could he have missed it? Felicity loved him as he loved her. It was a reality at once, he just knew, as she just knew.  
  
Felicity sent the letter care of the only soldier she ever wrote to, her brother Dan. Dan had received the letter resisted the urge to open it and somehow had it sent to Peter. At the very moment Peter received his letter Felicity had received hers. Responding letters were sent and Peter was finally coming home. His injuries were not grave but they would not allow him to continue and fight, he had lost the ability to hear out of his left ear and suffered abrasions in his chest and forehead.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * Felicity King never was the child bride she'd been expected to be, no longer the village Belle (a sixteen year old Edwards had taken the title) she was a sober and practical twenty-four year old bride.  
  
A year after Felicity and Peter were wed, Felicity gave birth to a lovely chubby baby boy. This boy was definitely a King baby as any baby of Felicity's would be. This baby needed a distinguished name full of rich family history and dignity. She would name him Alexander for her father (Alec King was very proud of his first grandson) and as any mother would for her family name. Many a friend and relative tried to dissuade Felicity, some had come to Peter for assistance, all to no avail. The poor little boy as christened Alexander King Craig. The boy's parents called him Alexander, his teachers Alex but alas any other person who came in contact with him for the rest of his days he would be called anything but. He was called King, His Royal Highness, His Majesty, Royal, Majesty, HRH and so on and so forth. This is the story how Alexander Craig became King. 


End file.
